


Somewhere in the Bayou

by miss_grey



Series: What We Do In The Dark [19]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, Just these two being adorable, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, babe is a bit terrified but definitely turned on lol, jealous babe, witch gene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 19:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: Babe heads back down to the Bayou, and he can't wait to see Gene again.  Gene can't wait to see him, either.





	Somewhere in the Bayou

**Author's Note:**

> I was definitely going to wait another day to post this, but I have zero self control. I can never seem to hold onto chapters after I finish them. So! Here you all go, a present to say sorry for all the hurt and angst of the last chapter. I hope you enjoy!

 

 

The map was still wrong, and Babe wouldn’t have been able to find Wisteria Creek if he hadn’t been there before.  Still, he fought off a bout of nerves as he trundled the little car down the potholed lane toward Gene’s house.  It was cooler than it’d been the last time he was here—it was October now—but it was just as humid, and Babe had sweated through his shirt, even in the relative relief of the air conditioning. 

As he pulled up in front of the house, he saw Gene stand from where he’d been sitting on the front steps of his porch.  And _God,_ Babe’s memory didn’t do the man justice.  He was tall and lean, with smooth muscles evident under the cut of his white t-shirt, which hugged his body closely.  And his jeans…they hugged his hips and thighs, and Babe felt his mouth water.  He swallowed thickly and popped his door open, standing awkwardly.  “Gene!  Hey!”  He called, shutting the door behind him.

“Edward!”  Gene called back, sauntering up to where Babe stood against the car, “It’s good to see ya.”  He smiled warmly at Babe (a larger smile than Babe had ever seen on the man’s face) and then seemed to doubt himself, suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands.

Babe saw the doubt flicker across his serious brow and decided to do something about it.  So, biting the bullet and hoping Gene didn’t turn him into a frog or something, Babe moved into his space and wrapped his arms around Gene in a hug.  Gene stiffened for a moment, stunned, before his shoulders relaxed, and then the muscles in his back and arms, and then he tentatively raised his arms around Babe’s back to return the hug.  “How are ya, Gene?”  Babe asked, taking a step back.

“’M good.”  He said, moving back and shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.  “How was the drive?”

“It was alright, like I said when I called yesterday.  But I think I’ll definitely have to think of a better option—Penkala’s car is so small…I feel cramped the whole time.”

Gene grinned.  “Well, why don’t you come inside then, Edward.  I think I got somethin’ that’ll make you feel betta.”

Babe quirked a brow, his mind suddenly running all over itself like an over-eager puppy.  “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Gene turned and nodded toward the house.  “Come on.”

So, Babe followed, ducking his head as he moved through the threshold.  He took a deep breath and smiled.  Yep, the house still smelled like a weird mix of smoke, food, and various herbs.  Definitely Gene’s place.  The various tables and chairs were covered in open books, bowls, and plants, and Babe allowed himself another fond smile.  Everything was covered in the tools of Gene’s trade, in fact, except for the couch, which was made up neatly with a pillow and a quilt.  _He did that for me,_ Babe thought, fighting a blush. 

“Sit down, Edward,” Gene said, motioning toward a seat at the table. 

Babe did as he was told and once settled, allowed his eyes to follow the other man around the kitchen.  He took a deep breath and felt his stomach growl.  “Is that…?”  Babe asked, noticing a large pot on the ancient stove.

“Gumbo?”  Gene asked, turning back toward Babe with a large porcelain bowl in his hand.  “Yep.  Told ya I’d feed ya if you made it back down here.”  Gene settled the bowl and spoon in front of Babe.  “Eat up.”

Babe grinned up at his friend.  “Thanks, Gene.  It smells amazing.”  He dug his spoon in as the other man prepared his own bowl.  The first bite was delicious, as was the second, and the third.  Babe groaned in appreciation, his eyes flickering closed as the rich scent and taste soothed him.  And okay, a wiser man might’ve paused, might’ve thought twice before takin’ that first bite, but not Babe.  He remembered all the fairy tales he’d been told when he was a kid, and all the stories from the old Irish ladies who gossiped after church—he knew you weren’t supposed to take food from strangers (there was some lesson about fairies and food and trapping you forever), and Babe figured that probably applied to swamp witches, too, but he didn’t care.  Gene was different, and he made a damn good bowl of soup.  And if Babe ended up trapped forever with him in the Bayou?  Well, there were worse things.

They ate in silence, smiling quietly at each other over their bowls of food, while Babe absorbed the ambiance of Gene’s home some more.  It was small and cluttered, but it smelled good, if a little weird, and it had a homey feeling to it despite all the strange things that Babe didn’t recognize.  Still, the best part was the man sitting across from him, with his dark hair standing at odd angles like he’d run his hands through it many times.  His skin was clean and fresh looking, though.  Smudge-less, like he hadn’t taken a walk in the swamp today.  Or like he’d showered right before Babe got there.

After they finished eating, Babe insisted on helping Gene do the dishes.  So they stood next to each other, companionably, as Gene washed and Babe dried.

Once the kitchen was clean and the leftovers had been put in the antique fridge, Babe nudged Gene with his shoulder and said “I have somethin’ for you.”

Gene’s brows furrowed in confusion.  “For me?”

Babe chuckled. “Yeah, for you.” 

Taking a seat on the couch, Babe dug through his duffle until he unearthed the wrapped package he’d prepared a few days before.  “Here.”  He handed the package over to a frowning Gene.

Gene held the package in his hands, turning it carefully over and over, and Babe got the very frustrating and uncomfortable feeling that Gene wasn’t used to being given gifts, aside from the odd casserole from his neighbors. “What is it?”  Gene murmured.

Babe huffed.  “Open it.”

Gene flicked a glance up at Babe, then focused back on the package.  Unlike Babe, who would’ve torn the paper off in his excitement, Gene took his time and carefully unwrapped the box.  Babe sat on the edge of his seat, barely containing his nerves and his excitement.  Would Gene like it?  Was it weird?  No, it couldn’t be weird—they’d joked about it together.  It wasn’t the same as it had been the last time he was here.  They were friends now.  Right?

Gene pulled the box open and frowned down into it.  He reached inside and pulled out the tin first, brows pulling together.  He set the box aside for the moment and set the tin on his lap.  Carefully, he pulled the lid off and then a smile spread gradually across his lips.  He glanced up at Babe, dark eyes sparkling.  “Cookies?  For me?”

Babe nodded excitedly.  “Yeah, ‘course they’re for you!  They’re the awesome ones I was tellin’ you about.  Try one!”

“Okay,” Gene said, and pulled a cookie from the tin.  He took a bite and closed his eyes, a happy smile curling his lips.  “’S good, Edward.”  He crunched it happily.  “Really good.”  He swallowed.  “Your ma make these?”

“Nope,” Babe said, his chest swelling with pride.  “I did!”

Gene paused, eyes fixing on Babe’s.  “Thought you said you didn’t know how.”

Babe smiled triumphantly.  “I taught myself how, like I told you I would.  It took me a few tries, but I finally figured it out.”

Even in the dim light of the living room, Babe could see a blush crawl across Gene’s cheeks.  “You didn’t have ta do that, ya know.”

“I know.  I wanted to.  You deserve tasty cookies.”

The blush deepened.  “Thanks, Edward.”

“You’re welcome.  Now, look in the box.  There’s somethin’ else.”

Gene reached into the box and pulled out the two books that Babe had laid gently inside.  He stared at the covers, then flipped them over to read the backs.  His brow furrowed, and Babe held his breath, nervous that he’d screwed up, nervous that they were the wrong ones, that Gene hated them, or that he’d read them already.  He knew that people could be real picky about their reading material.  Gene turned them over in his hands again, delicate fingers skimming over the covers.  “What are these for?”

Babe shrugged.  “You said you liked to read in your free time—stories about different kinds of people in different places.  I figured it might be hard to find a good selection all the way out here, so I brought you a couple.  I hope you like ‘em.”

Gene focused on them again.  “ _Eat, Pray, Love,”_ he intoned in his deep voice, and then “ _The Book Thief._ ”  He smiled up at Babe.  “I haven’t read either of them yet.  Thank you, Edward.  Are they yours?”

Now it was Babe’s turn to blush.  He ran a hand over the back of his neck.  “Nah.  I don’t read much, actually.  But the lady at the bookstore recommended both of them when I told her what sort of stories I was lookin’ for.”

Gene’s eyes softened even further, though like always, Babe couldn’t quite read them—they were so dark and deep, and Babe felt like he’d never be able to reach the bottom of them.  “So you got these just fo’ me?”

“Yeah.  I hope you like ‘em.”

Gene smiled.  “I love ‘em, Edward.  Thank you.”  Then Gene stood and placed them on one of his many bookshelves, sandwiched between a battered copy of _To Kill A Mockingbird_ and a hand-bound book titled _Chansons de Guérison._

 

* * *

 

 

Babe woke in the middle of the night, sweat beading on his forehead.  He sat, eyes adjusting to the darkness.  “Gene?”  He asked.  No answer.  “Gene?”  Babe’s feet thumped against the cool floorboards as he stood and made his way back toward Gene’s bedroom.  He peeked inside.  “Gene?”  But the bed was empty, the covers thrown aside haphazardly.  Babe frowned.  “Where is he?”

He made his way to the front porch and had just pushed his way out when he saw Gene’s pale figure step into the shadows of the thick trees at the edge of his drive.  “Shit,” Babe hissed, shoving his feet into his shoes.  He hurried out after his friend, but did his best to be quiet.  Though the trees were thick, the moon was bright and he was able to pick out Gene’s pale skin fairly quickly.  Heart thumping wildly in his chest, Babe decided to follow him at a distance, his mind swimming with a mix of curiosity, worry for Gene’s safety, and worry for his own.  What was he doing, really, following a witch into the middle of a swamp in the middle of the night?  That was crazy.  Babe knew it was.  It _sounded_ crazy, even to him.  Especially since Gene had expressly warned him against it before.  _Don’t go into the swamp at night, Edward, no matter who calls._ That’s what Gene had told him.  Right after he’d listed off all the supernatural and natural creatures that lived in these parts that could kill Babe.  And now, here he was, doing exactly what he shouldn’t be doing.  And anyway, what if Gene didn’t want to be followed?  What if he was going to do some top secret witch thing?  Did Babe really wanna know?  And anyway, Gene could take care of himself, couldn’t he?

A twig snapped under Babe’s foot and he winced, but Gene continued on ahead of him, undisturbed.  Babe stealthily made his way through the trees, vines, and thick, sucking mud after Gene.  In the distance, Babe saw a couple bluish green lights hovering, then dart away.  He heard what he thought might be light laughter, and whispers.  A chill crawled over his skin and he shivered, even in the warmth of the night.  This was a bad idea.

Suddenly, Gene emerged into a clearing and stopped, so Babe ducked behind a large tree and peeked around it to watch. 

Gene wasn’t alone.

In the pale light of the moon, Babe spotted a woman emerging from the opposite side of the clearing.  She was dressed in a tattered skirt, dirtied at the hem, complete with a white apron that had dark smudges across it.  Her blouse was modest, blue, to match the scarf that pulled her pale blonde hair away from her pretty face.  She came close to Gene then started speaking low and fast.  Babe strained his ears.  He caught her voice—sweet, melodic, then cursed when he realized he couldn’t understand a word of it.  Gene nodded softly, following along, before he responded in the same way.  _French.  They must be speaking French._

The woman reached out, then, and ran a hand down Gene’s arm, before hers fell to her side.  She looked sad.  So sad.  And concerned.  Her pale brows pulled together and her voice became even more urgent.

Gene nodded again, and his voice was soothing.  Babe wished he understood.  They looked close.  Like… _really close._ Babe felt a surge of jealousy in his belly, then another wave of embarrassment.  He was a fool.  How could he have thought that someone as amazing as Gene was single?  How could he have believed that Gene might be interested in him?  It was obvious that he had this woman… this odd, beautiful woman who met him in the depths of the swamp at night, who didn’t seem to fear this place like Babe did.

Suddenly, the woman leaned forward and brushed her lips against Gene’s cheek before she disappeared.  _Disappeared._ As in, she dissolved into thin air, right there in front of Babe!  Babe’s mouth dropped open and he gaped, sure he was seeing things, sure he’d let his imagination and jealousy get the better of him. 

Then Gene’s voice broke the still of the night again.  “Come on, Edward.  It’s time to head back to the house, now.” 

Babe felt a cold sweat break out across his brow before Gene turned to glance at him over his thin shoulder.  _He knew I was here the whole time.  Why did he let me follow him?  Why did he let me see this?  Who was that woman?_

Babe waited until Gene had picked his way through the underbrush and reached him before he followed meekly behind the other man, feeling embarrassed at having followed and humiliated at having been caught.

Gene said nothing as he led the way back to the house, but he didn’t seem upset or angry.  In fact, his limbs and shoulders were just as loose as always as he moved through the trees, feet stepping carefully along a path that only he could see.  Babe swallowed thickly as Gene held the screen door open for him to pass through.  Gene was being so calm about Babe essentially spying on him, and following him when he definitely wasn’t supposed to.  And… watching him with… that woman.  Whoever she was.

As they made their way into the living room, Gene stood by and waited while Babe took a seat on the couch.  Gene passed him, and made his way to his own bedroom.  “Goodnight, Edward.”  He murmured.

Babe’s heart thumped—this was it.  Gene must be angry with him.  Why else would he say nothing?  “Wait,” Babe called, voice hoarse.  “I’m sorry, Gene.”

Gene turned back to him, brows drawn together on his pale forehead.  “Fo’ what, Edward?”

“Followin’ you.  I know I shouldn’t have.  But… you weren’t here when I woke up.  And well….”  Babe shrugged.

“It’s fine,” Gene said, voice calm as always.  “But you should be more careful, Edward.  There’s lots of things in this swamp that you should be wary of.”

_Like you?_ It was always implied, by everyone, and Babe wondered if that’s what Gene meant, now.  Or if it was everything else.  Babe was tired of everyone always thinking he couldn’t handle himself.  Maybe that’s where the sudden bravery came from, when he asked “Who is she?”

Gene stared at him in the dim light of the living room for a long moment, and Babe wondered if the other man was simply going to turn and leave, wondered if Babe had finally pushed him too far.  But Gene simply answered him.  “Her name is Renee.  She’s a spirit.”  He shrugged.  “She lived ‘round here a long time ago.  She helps me to look after things.”

Babe paled.  “A ghost.”

Gene shrugged a shoulder gently, acknowledging. 

“What’d she want?” 

Gene’s dark eyes seemed to glitter in the darkness.  Babe gulped.  He was definitely in over his head—what was he doing, pushing Gene like this?  Babe knew what he was, sort of.  A witch, who didn’t call himself a witch.  He knew Gene was capable of amazing healing.  But what else?  What else could Gene do, that Babe wasn’t aware of.  What might he do, if he was pushed?  What business did Babe have, questioning him like this, anyway?  He had no claim on Gene. 

Gene’s voice was soft in the darkness when he answered.  “She was bringin’ me a warning.”  Gene’s eyes lost focus then, and he seemed to stare at something in the distance that Babe could not see.  “The spirits’ been whisperin’ my name.  More than usual.  And a demon’s been murmurin’ ‘bout me, too, though he don’t know my name.  And I’d like to keep it that way.”  Gene licked his lips and gazed back at Babe.  “Names have power.”

Babe’s throat suddenly felt very dry.  “What do they want from you?”

Gene shrugged.  “Oh…any number of things.  It’s what happens when you’re…like me.  I have a tendency to draw their focus.”

Babe’s heart was pounding so loud in his chest, he wondered if Gene could hear it.  “Are you in danger?”

Gene waved a hand as if to brush the worry away.  “No more than any other time, Edward.  Nothin’ for you to worry yo’self over.” 

There were a hundred other things that Babe wanted to ask, but he couldn’t seem to find the words.  Gene’s eyes softened in the darkness as he approached, and, very slowly, very carefully, laid a hand against the side of Babe’s neck, briefly, before his fingers fell away.  “Goodnight, Edward.”

Then he was gone, and Babe was left sitting in the darkness, staring at the spot where the other man had been.  He raised his fingers to his neck and they tingled.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The wafting scent of coffee woke Babe.  He cracked his eye open and could see Gene in the kitchen, bustling about.  Babe sat up and stretched, a smile spreading across his lips before he remembered the details of the night before.  Then he paused, arms high over his head, and the smile fell from his face.  _I fucked up._

Gene turned, then, and quirked a brow at Babe from across the kitchen.  “You’re up.  Good.  I’m gonna teach you how to make pancakes.”

Babe blinked, sure that he’d misheard.  Still, he wasn’t about to throw away a free pass, so he climbed to his feet and made his way quickly into the kitchen, swiping sleep from his eyes as he went.

“Mornin’, Gene.”  He mumbled.

“Mornin’.”  Gene replied.  Then he moved to the side so that Babe stood in front of the counter and all the ingredients laid out.  Milk.  Eggs.  Butter.  Flour.  Honey.  Salt.  Baking powder.  Gene sidled up next to Babe so that their shoulders brushed and Babe felt himself relax a bit.  He glanced down at the shorter man, but Gene was focused on the ingredients.  “By the time you leave here, you’ll know how to cook a few decent meals for yo’self.”  He murmured. 

“Gene,” Babe said, unable to help himself.  “I’m sorry again.  For last night.  I never should’ve followed you.  It was none of my business.”

Gene turned to Babe, frowning.  “You’re right.  It wasn’t.”  Babe swallowed thickly, feeling his heartrate kick up again.  “But I’m not angry with you, Edward.”  Gene sighed.  “I’m not used to…this.”  He waved his hands helplessly.  “To people being here for more than a few hours at a time.  To people wantin’ to know about me.”  Gene ran a hand through his hair.  “People usually come here wantin’ things from me, and then they leave.  They don’t usually come back, just because.  They don’t… care.  About me.”  Gene shrugged again, thin shoulders rising and falling dramatically.  “So you’re right… it’s not your business.  And I don’t quite know how to deal with this…but I sort of like that you want it to be.  Your business, I mean.”

Babe’s pulse roared in his ears.  He swallowed thickly.  “I do,” he croaked.  “Care, I mean.  I care.”

“I know.”  Gene bumped his shoulder against Babe’s, but lingered, so that Babe could feel the warmth from his body for a moment.  “But I’m okay.”  He smiled softly.  “Now, let me teach you this, Edward.  I worry that you’ll starve to death while your mother’s at work.”

Able to breathe again, Babe paid attention while Gene taught him to make pancakes.  And when they were done, they sat at the table together and ate them, while they drank coffee from Gene’s old French press.  Breakfast was delicious.

 

* * *

 

 

They both sat cross-legged on the floor, piles of plants spread between them.  Babe sorted them while Gene processed them, according to his needs.  “Renee.”  Babe said, breaking their comfortable silence.  “Is she, uh… the only spirit that comes around here?”

Gene’s brows furrowed in concentration, but he didn’t look up from his work as he answered, “No.  There are others.”  Babe couldn’t help the chill that shivered up his spine.  He glanced around himself but when he turned back, Gene was watching him, a tiny smirk quirking up the corner on his lips.  “They ain’t here, Edward.  Nothin’ gets into this house unless I let it.”

Babe frowned.  “You’ve said somethin’ like that before, but I never understood what you meant.”

Gene shrugged.  “I got wards up.  Around the house, and the property.  And…well, the parish.  And other places.”

“Wards?  What does that mean?”

Gene shook his head and chuckled softly.  “I keep forgettin’ that you’re new to all of this.  They’re uh…lines of protection.  I have different kinds put up, but they basically keep things out that might cause harm.  Or that I don’t want interferin’ with my work.”

“Like spirits.”

Gene nodded.

Babe suddenly realized something that Bill said to him before.  “And werewolves.  That’s why Bill and the others could never come.  They had to send someone else.”

“Yeah,” Gene acknowledged.  “I’m not in the habit of lettin’ creatures into my home.”  He smirked.  “Though I have made an exception or two over the years.”  He shrugged.  “But generally, no…they don’t come here.  They can’t.”

Babe whistled.  “That sounds impressive.”

Gene shrugged.  “It is what it is.”

“That’s what you were helping those guys with the first time I was here, isn’t it?  A ward.”

Gene nodded.  “Yeah.  Sure was.  They had a demon huntin’ ‘em, and they needed a ward to keep ‘em safe.”

Babe’s eyebrows jumped up close to his hairline.  “A demon.  Geez.  I know you said it at the time, but I didn’t…well.  I wasn’t quite ready for that, yet.  Sounds scary, though.”

Gene nodded.  “Demons are nothin’ to mess around with.  They can’t be killed.  And they take souls.”

Babe gulped.  “You said last night that one’s been askin’ about you.”

“Yeah.  Doin’ what I do…sometimes I come to the attention of those I wish I didn’t.  But like I said last night,” Gene drawled, “it’ don’t know my name.”

Babe frowned.  “Is that why you go by The Doc?”

Gene shrugged.  “One reason, I s’pose.”

Babe thought about that for a moment, then he was hit by another realization.  “You said names have power.  What, exactly, does that mean?”

Gene met his eyes, serious, as he explained.  “Most types of magic require somethin’ of a person’s essence to work.  Hair, nail.  Saliva, blood… other such things.”  Babe shuddered.  “But a name works just as well.  If you know a person’s name, you have power over them.”

Babe licked his lips, afraid to ask his next question, but also afraid not to.  “Is that why you call me Edward?”

Gene’s dark eyes, as always, were unfathomable, as he gazed back at Babe.  “At first.”  Gene admitted.  “It’s nothin’ personal.  I don’t let anyone into my home unless I know their name.  Gotta be cautious in my line of work.”

“And now?”

“What?”

“You said ‘at first.’  So now?  Why do you call me Edward?”

Gene grinned, and he glanced down, his dark lashes hiding his eyes.  “I like the sound of it.”  He glanced back up at Babe, from under his lashes, and Babe felt a blush climb up his neck and over his cheeks.

“Oh,” he muttered.  Then he went back to sorting plants. 

 

 

By that afternoon, they’d finished the medicine for the Pack, but Babe still had three days left.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Gene woke Babe early.  Babe opened his eyes to find Gene kneeling next to the couch, face close.  “Mornin’, Edward,” Gene murmured.  “How do you feel about fishin’?”

Babe snorted and pushed himself up.  “I haven’t been fishin’ since I was a boy.  And I have a feeling that castin’ off the pier in Philly is probably different than what you’re talkin’ about.”

“A bit,” Gene conceded.  “Wanna try?”

“Sure.”

So they both rose and dressed quickly, before Babe followed Gene out into the yard, but they turned in the opposite way they usually went.  Babe was pleasantly surprised to find a small rowboat waiting for them at the edge of a slow, placid river.  “Get in,” Gene directed.  Though Babe was nervous of tipping the thing over, he climbed in and then Gene pushed it into the water, leaping gracefully in after.

“Here,” Gene said, handing Babe a fishing pole.  He held out a can of bait.  “Just put some on the end and drop the line into the water.”

Babe gazed into the bucket, and almost retched when the smell hit him.  “Oh God,” he gasped.  “What _is_ that, Gene?”

Gene laughed at him.  “Probably best you don’t know, Edward.”  He motioned for Babe to reach in.  “It catches fish, though.”

“Gross,” Babe mumbled, as his fingers closed over a piece of squishy _something._ He almost gagged again, but he managed to get it on the hook at the end of his line, and then he dropped it into the water.  He stared balefully at his hand.

Gene laughed again, and the sound was so full, so pure, that Babe almost didn’t mind what he’d just done.  “Just dip your hand in the water.”

Babe frowned as he looked down into the murky water.  “That doesn’t look much better.”

Gene rolled his eyes, leaned forward, and splashed some water up at Babe.  Babe gasped, surprised, but Gene just chuckled.  “It won’t kill ya, Edward.  I promise.”

So Babe dipped his hand in the water and was surprised by how warm it was.  After he’d rinsed his hand, he leaned back and watched as Gene baited his own line.  “So.  What are we fishin’ for?”

Gene shrugged.  “There’s a lot in these parts.  If we’re lucky, some bass or catfish.  But the smaller ones—sunfish, bluegills—also make a nice soup.”

Babe grinned and bumped Gene’s shoulder.  “Gonna teach me how to cook that too?”

Gene gazed back at him, his dark eyes sparkling.  “Sure.  Can’t have you starvin’ back in Philly, can we?”

Babe snorted.  “I wouldn’t _starve,_ Gene.”

Gene rolled his eyes.  “I’m not convinced.”

Twenty minutes in, something tugged at Babe’s line, but when he reeled it in, there was nothing there, including the bait.  “Oh man,” he whined, knowing he’d have to touch that disgusting mystery stuff again.

“Sometimes the fish are real smart,” Gene said, “so you have to be quick when they bite.  Jerk the line like this, just a bit.”  He demonstrated with his own pole.  “It’ll set the hook.”

“Alright.”

Babe wasn’t usually this patient—maybe that’s why he hadn’t fished since he was a boy—but it was different with Gene.  They sat close together in the boat, and talked a bit while they waited for the fish to bite.  Gene told him a bit more about life in the swamp—animals he’d seen, and people he’d cured.  He mentioned that his mother taught him to cook when he was a boy.  Most of Gene’s recipes were hers and they’d been passed down through the generations. 

Then Babe chattered on about life back in Philly—his older siblings, who he didn’t talk to much nowadays since they’d left the city, and some of the guys.  Gene listened attentively, asking about a few of the guys.  At first, Babe thought maybe Gene was trying to get a better understanding of the dynamics of the Pack, but then he realized that Gene was just trying to learn about Babe’s friends, and he felt a warmth spread through his chest. 

Finally, after a couple hours of waiting, Babe felt another tug on the end of his line, so he jerked the rod like Gene had showed him, then quickly reeled the line in.  It took him a few minutes, but finally the shimmer of scales broke the murky water and Babe hauled up a sunfish.  “Gene, look!”  He shouted.  “I did it!  I caught a fish!”

Gene grinned warmly at him.  “You did!  Time to bring him in, then.  Go ahead and get him—drop him here,” Gene said, holding out another bucket filled partway with water.

Babe grimaced as he reached out and grasped the fish—it was slippery and the scales felt weird against the smooth skin of his palm.  Still, Babe managed to unhook the fish without puking, and he dropped the fish into the bucket triumphantly.  “Can you believe, it, Gene?  Look at me, a real fisherman!”  Babe leaned over the bucket to look at the fish again, and when he raised his eyes, he found Gene leaning close, his dark eyes warm, fixed on Babe.  “Gene?”  He whispered.

Then Gene leaned the rest of the way across the bucket, and he pressed his lips softly against Babe’s, just for a moment, before he pulled back, as if surprised at himself.  “Uh….”  He cleared his throat.  “Sorry ‘bout that, Edward.”  He coughed.

Babe shook his head.  “Don’t be.”  He said, then he leaned in Gene’s direction, reached a hand up to caress his pale cheek, and kissed him back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are love. Please let me know what you think, and feel free to come say hi on tumblr. I'm always up for gushing about all these boys. I'm @realhunterswearplaid.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Somewhere in the bayou](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004562) by [Lysel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysel/pseuds/Lysel)
  * [Don’t go into the swamp at night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21571267) by [Lysel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysel/pseuds/Lysel)




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